Safety in Numbers
by Harvester of Eyes
Summary: My submission to the 2009 Gathering Anthology. The day after the events of "Hunter's Moon," Jon Canmore has a meeting at a not so familiar New York landmark that changes his life forever.


**Safety In Numbers**

By

Harvester of Eyes ()

Legal Mumbo-Jumbo: All the characters appearing in _Gargoyles _and _Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles_ are copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. All original characters are the property of the author. This work is being distributed freely and without any financial gain whatsoever. This is simply a work of fanfiction. All original names are used fictitiously, and any relationship to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

The knob turned, and with it came the promise of freedom. A promise that was dashed as he swung the elaborate oak door open to reveal a wall of cinderblocks.

With a growl to rival those of the demons pursuing him, Jon Canmore flung himself forward, bare fists beating against the rough stone. He succeeded only in scraping his hands, leaving small red streaks of blood against the slate gray of the barrier.

_They're getting closer…_

In the few moments remaining before the creatures on his heels picked up his scent once again, Jon Canmore tried to recall how he'd gotten here in the first place.

**24 Hours Ago…**

It started the night before, at Saint Damien's. The night he'd finally accepted what gargoyles truly were. It was a truth he'd been unwilling to accept sixteen years ago as he'd stared in numb horror at the shattered corpse of his father, with the Demon's mocking laughter ringing in his ears. Though the laughter had plagued his dreams for many nights as he grew into adulthood, he still could not see what his elder brother had known all along.

No, it took nearly losing Jason for Jon to understand that not just the Demon, but the entire gargoyle race was a threat. And even when it seemed like he'd gotten Jason back, the elder Canmore was then seriously wounded. All because of the monster called Goliath.

Murdered father, crippled brother. Even his sister had refused to come with Jon, instead staying behind to help those unholy creatures. So for the first time in his life, he was alone. Adrift. Cast away.

He'd been in the process of routing through one of the safe houses that he and his siblings had set up, somewhere on the docks in Queens, when he'd found the card in the pocket of Jason's jacket. Briefly, he'd remembered a conversation with Jason shortly after the Hunters had arrived in Manhattan. Jason had gone alone to meet with someone. Someone who claimed to have friends that they said could offer assistance and resources far beyond what the Hunters already had.

Naturally, his brother turned down the offer. "Don't forget what father told us, Jon," Jason explained when he returned from the meeting. "It's _our _destiny. Our birthright as Canmores. To accept the kind of help that they're offering would mean making the hunt a _public _crusade. To do that would disgrace not only father's memory, but all who came before him, whether they fell at the Demon's hands, or merely spent their lives in search of her."

_Our birthright. _Jon had taken a moment to reflect on those words. It was no longer about family anymore. Both of his immediate family, all he'd had since their father's murder, had forsaken the hunt. He was alone now.

It was not a feeling he'd wanted to hold onto. So he'd dialed the number on the card. He recalled how there had been a few moments of silence on the other end of the phone, after Jon had given his name. Then, a voice: "Ummm, yes, Mr. Canmore. We'd heard what happened to your siblings. It was most… unfortunate. Both myself and the people I work for extend our deepest…"

"I didn't call for pity," Jon had cut them off. "Just tell me one thing: the offer you made Jason the other day. Does it still stand?"

Another pause. Then, he thought, a whispered conversation, or maybe it was just the static on the line. Finally: "I think we can come to an arrangement. But not over the phone. Write down the following address and meet me there tonight, just after dusk."

Jon checked the address after hanging up the phone. The Hotel Cabal. It was not a place he'd ever heard of. But then, he'd spent most of his life in Europe. And it _was _a hotel. So it sounded public enough.

**Indeterminate amount of time ago. At dusk…**

He'd come to this address at the appointed time. But did not get the meeting he'd hoped for. The lobby was elegant, but deserted. Buttery leather sofas without occupants and polished metal baggage caddies empty of cargo stretched out before him. Jon had made his way across the immaculate marble floor to the front desk, and rang the gleaming silver bell.

The sound seemed to echo through the cavernous lobby, shaking the crystal chandeliers overhead. Jon Canmore stared thoughtfully up at the fixtures for a moment, and then the lights within them went dead. Jon glanced hurriedly around, though it was wasted effort. He couldn't see more than a foot in front of him. He wondered why no lights from the city were filtering in through the windows. Then he remembered, when he'd first come through the revolving door, that he hadn't noticed any windows.

He should have taken that as a bad sign. He cursed himself for it as he looked through his jacket pocket for a lighter. As he was searching, he became aware of a faint glow behind him… no, more than one… which bathed his surroundings in bland white and harsh crimson.

He turned, momentarily relieved. Then cursed himself again for the second time in as many minutes as he brought his head round. Even before he looked towards the lights, he should have been able to recognize their source.

Two sets of gargoyle eyes, one male and one female, regarded him. By the light of their cold glare, Jon was able to identify them: one was the Demon who had taken his father. The other was the monster responsible for Jason's current state.

Fortunately, Jon had come prepared. Still with his hand in his jacket, he quickly found Jason's old gun, closed his fingers around the handle. Though his own eyes could not glow, they still burned with an intense hatred as Jon brought the weapon out. He took aim at his enemies, at those two most loathsome members of an unholy race, and fired.

The gunshots reverberating through the lobby drowned out his snarl of rage. The bullets, however, seemed to have no effect. The monsters did not flinch, their muscular bodies absorbing the hot slugs without even drawing blood. It was only when the trigger began to click that Jon realized his foes were still standing.

Panic took him as he let the gun slip from his fingers. _More sorcery? _He asked himself. His throat dried as both creatures began to laugh, louder than the Demon ever had in his nightmares, mocking peals of laughter that echoed through the darkened lobby.

He turned on his heels, trying to flee his enemies, though he knew that would be useless. The books his father had made them read, passed down from their ancestors, said that these monsters could see in the dark with clarity to rival a cat's vision. What chance did he have? Bereft of weapons, armor, his family, he was adrift. Alone. Once more, he couldn't help but recall the warmth, the sense of belonging, he'd been cast away from…

**Now**

_How long have I been running? _Jon Canmore wondered. Like a blind rat through a maze, he'd been hunted by these beasts. They'd blocked the way he'd come in through the lobby, so Jon had frantically scrambled through the darkness in search of an elevator or another exit, losing track of how many times he'd stumbled over furniture or stairs.

It may have just been his imagination, but it felt almost like the very structure of the hotel was working against him. It was not just the way the sealed doors tantalized him with the hope of escape, but it almost felt like someone or thing kept throwing up furniture or other obstacles for him to trip over whenever it felt like he was gaining ground from the monsters.

Still, he'd kept running. Though he'd lost all sense of time, he fled as if the legions of Hell pursued. As far as he was concerned, they did.

Now, as he put his back to the concrete wall and slumped down, drawing his knees up towards his shoulders, he started to wonder why.

_They'll catch me sooner or later_, he thought. And why should he try to stop them? They'd taken everything from him. His father was dead, and the two other people that had comprised his world for much of his life had thrown in their lot with the beasts responsible. He'd finally seen what Jason had always known, but it was knowledge gained too late…

The footfalls of talons against the plush carpeting could faintly be heard up the corridor, to his right.

For some reason, the sound ignited a spark within him. No! He wasn't alone! He couldn't be. As long as he still possessed a desire to stand up against these creatures, to stop them from doing to others what they'd inflicted on him, he was never alone.

_As long as there's breath in me, I can make them _pay_ for their crimes against me! Justice for dad! Justice for Jason!_

He raised his head, in time to see the demons round the corner. They paused in their approach, regarding him by the light of their eyes. Then they both began to laugh again, the deep maniacal bass rumble of the lavender gargoyle's laughter mixing with the sultry blood-honey of the Demon's.

This time, Jon would not let himself be afraid. Instead, their laughing only stoked the fires of his hatred, his desire for justice. Emitting a scream that seemed to mirror a gargoyle's roar with its intensity, Jon lunged at his foes.

He was never sure if he made contact. The last thing he remembered was slamming into a seemingly invisible force, and then spinning into the void of blackness.

What Jon Canmore believed to be his final stand had not gone unnoticed. In another room within the same building, the event was broadcast through a bank of monitors to a person who'd been watching Jon since his arrival.

"Hm." The watcher was a slender, dark-haired girl garbed in a black, midriff-bearing top and torn jeans, and though she'd been in the chair for some time, she remained as alert as when she'd first sat down.

The monitors bathed the otherwise darkened chamber in a crisp, sterile light. Aside from the control panel and chair, the room was featureless save for an emblem etched into various spots on the wall, that of a pyramid with a wide, lidless eye set into the apex, an eye surrounded by flames.

The stack of monitors showed the girl images from all over the hotel's labyrinth of rooms and hallways. The girl leaned forward, all of her focus on one screen in particular: that of Canmore's unconscious form, crumpled before the two gargoyles, who now stood there with blank looks on their faces. The girl flipped a switch, and the gargoyles vanished from the screen.

She heard a faint beeping behind her, then a hiss as a panel on the wall slid open. A thin, balding man who moved like someone in his thirties, but whose careworn face suggested he was far beyond that age, entered. With another hiss the panel slid shut, blending back into the wall.

The girl in the chair turned towards the older-looking gentleman, who was dressed in the uniform of a bellhop. The glare of the monitors glinted off a pin on the bellhop's lapel, highlighting the image carved there, which was identical to the one on the control room's wall.

The girl in black nodded, rose from the seat. "Nine."

"Five," the bellhop responded. "How long has our guest been at it, Shari?"

"Six hours, sir," said the woman called Shari. "And I'd like to add that the trial run for the Cabal's new holographic projection system has been a successful one. I've been recording the data from Mr. Canmore's stay, as ordered. But the big surprise is Mr. Canmore himself. Apparently, he's tougher than we gave him credit for."

The man crossed the room, surveyed the monitors. "Yes, we needed to be sure of that. To be honest, we weren't expecting to get that call from Jason's brother. And he was the last Canmore we were considering for the position anyway. Our initial profile showed that he was deficient in all areas of leadership, the complete opposite of Jason. Obviously, something happened to him in that church. Which is fortunate for us, since we were afraid we'd have to push the project back."

Shari smirked as she pressed another button on the panel, ejecting a black floppy with no label. "But first you just needed a test?" she asked as she passed it to the older man.

He accepted the disk, slipped it into his pocket. "We've invested a lot in this project. It's been in the works ever since we learned about the renovations David Xanatos was making to his corporate headquarters. Now is definitely the most opportune time to put the plan into motion, but first we need to make sure we have the right man in charge."

"My report is on that disk as well, sir. Having watched Mr. Canmore since his arrival, I can definitely vouch for his conviction as far as gargoyles are concerned. And he'll probably be easier to influence than his brother."

"Excellent." The man nodded with satisfaction as he produced a manila folder from within the scarlet jacket of his uniform and handed it to Shari. One side was embossed with a red and yellow emblem: a circle and hammer combining to form a stylized letter Q. "Well, I think our guest been through enough, my dear. He'll be of no use if his mind is completely broken. Take him to the infirmary, and make him the offer when he awakens."

Shari nodded curtly, and flashed a calculating smile.

_Am I dead?_

Jon Canmore quickly dismissed the thought. If he were dead, why did he have such a headache?

_Then what?_

Good question. Last thing he knew, he was making a final stand against his sworn enemies. He had no idea where the blow that felled him had come from.

_So if I'm still alive, am I a prisoner?_

His eyes came open, a searing pain rattling him to the back of his skull as white light assaulted his vision. When the brightness faded, he saw that he was lying on a plain, olive-green cot, in the corner of a room with few other features in it.

His eyes took in a desk and chair that rested against the far wall, then flicked up to the ceiling, and saw nothing but a row of bright fluorescents bathing the room in a cold, sterile glow.

Jon sat up, hand running slowly down the side of his jacket, which he was still wearing. He frowned when he did not feel the familiar shape of Jason's old gun, then remembered what had became of it. Something else he'd lost because of these monsters.

_Am I their prisoner now? _

Jon shuddered at the thought, and immediately began searching for one of the other weapons he'd entered the Cabal with. He forgotten about them in his flight from those monsters. But maybe now, he could use them to find a way out.

His search was interrupted by a knock at the door. Jon brought his gaze around to it, and realized for the first time that it was a regular door with a dull brass knob. Hardly what one would expect from a prison cell.

"May I come in?" A muffled voice from the other side. Female.

A brief pause, during which Jon sat up a bit straighter on the bed. Then he answered, "if you wish."

The knob turned and the door swung open. Jon expected to see one of the humans who he knew had ties to the gargoyle menace. Instead, he saw a girl he'd never seen before: slim and olive-skinned, with tawdry black attire more normally associated with street trash, and eyes that seemed to reflect a timeless quality beneath their surfaces. A manila folder was tucked under one arm, and she nodded politely she entered.

"Good to see you awake again, Mr. Canmore," She said, her tone both jovial and relaxing. The tone of one who'd spent most of their life serving rather than being served. "A relief, actually. You'll have to forgive me, I feel partially responsible for what happened."

"What…?"

"I still don't know how, but the gargoyles managed to find out about our meeting."

"How…?"

"A tap on your phone, probably. Remember that the police have your siblings in custody. Also, don't forget that those monsters have a friend on the force." The girl's tone seemed to change slightly, when she said the word "monsters." For some reason, it reminded Jon of dull razorblades.

"But, our men got there just in time to stop them," the girl went on. Still holding the envelope in one hand, she grabbed the chair with the other and dragged it over to Jon's bedside. "The beasts got away from us, but at least they left you mostly unscathed. After all, we wouldn't want anything to happen to you, Mr. Canmore. There's a lot we can do for each other." She set herself in the beside chair, offered her free hand to Jon. "Name's Shari, by the way."

Jon eyed the hand warily, and did not shake it. His mind was still trying to process the events of the last few hours. What Shari was saying made some sense, but… it was troubling to know that whoever she worked for could have their security so easily compromised if the gargoyles were able to operate under their noses like that.

Shari seemed to be reading his eyes. "Like I said, Mr. Canmore. There's a lot we can do for each other. The people I work for feel the same way as you do about these gargoyles. They represent a threat to everyone and everything. We have some men, but not enough to really combat them. This is why we approached your brother, and why we invited you here."

Jon's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"Think about it, Mr. Canmore. The people that I work for aren't the real victims of these monsters. The ones directly affected by their actions are the people out there." Shari waved a free hand in the direction of the open door. "The ones who have families, pets, work, school, mortgage payments. The ordinary people. The gargoyles are eating into their way of life, making them feel powerless. We need someone to show them that they _aren't_ powerless, and the best way to do that is to unite them with a common goal. Which is why we need you."

Jon had to admit, Shari's words had had an effect. But he was still skeptical. "To do what?"

Shari held the manila folder out to him, and Jon's eyes were immediately drawn to the red and yellow Q insignia stamped on one side. "We'd like you to lead the cause," Shari explained. "Now, you should be warned that it is part of a much larger organization. Although this larger one needs to remain anonymous, the people who run it still have the same goals as you: the extermination of the gargoyle race. But we need a public face, which is why we want you to lead the Quarrymen."

Jon sat up straighter on the cot. "Are you insane? I can't be seen in public right now. Every policeman in the city probably knows my face."

"We can take care of that," Shari answered calmly. "We'll set up a completely new identity for you, along with a new appearance. You already have some experience hiding in plain sight from the law, we'll take it a step further. You'll be a legitimate citizen again by the time we're through with you."

Though he showed no outward signs, Jon Canmore was impressed. Impressed, but wary. If these people Shari spoke of could do everything she claimed, what sort of power did they wield?

The answer seemed to almost give itself: _The power to help humanity rid the world of these monsters_.

After all, there was truth to her words. It was no longer simply his hunt. The hunt belonged to the entire human race now. Their peaceful, ordered existence had been invaded by these demons, and it was time to take it back. Jason had been too obstinate to see this. Now it was Jon's turn to be strong, and finish the hunt once and for all.

Jon gave a determined nod, accepted the folder from the girl's still outstretched hands. "All right," he said. "I'm interested. Tell me more about the Quarrymen."

A slow smile worked its way across Shari's dark lips. "In a moment, Mr. Canmore. There's something I need to give you first."

She reached into the pocket of her jeans, pulled out something small that gleamed golden beneath the dull fluorescents. As she held it out, Jon noticed an emblem etched on it, an emblem identical to that on one of the many necklaces adorning her neck.

"A gift from the Illuminati, Mr. Canmore," she explained. "The first of many…"


End file.
